


Casino Gets An Itch!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 01:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: For those who were longing for something featuring Casino and maybe Chief, a little something special!  After all, that's what Casino had in mind, something a little special, something to satisfy that sudden itch.





	Casino Gets An Itch!

Funny, it had started out being a pretty good day, one Craig had planned spending partly in the office, but mostly just lazing around, something he didn't take the opportunity to do too often. He'd made it into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, was just getting out a mug and the cream when Meghada walked in the kitchen door, puzzled expression on her face.

"Craig, where's the car?"

He looked back at the redhead, it being too early for his brain to be working at its usual speed, and made what, in retrospect really HAD been a dumb answer considering her question, "uh, in the car park next to the truck??" Obviously, from the look on her face, no, it wasn't, and Garrison gave himself a hard shake and groaned.

"Alright, I'll go check with the crew once I get at least one cup of coffee down me. I really can't face it til then, Meghada," and she grinned at him, remembering just how she'd left them all in the middle of a poker game, bottle in the center of the table along with the rather substantial pot. She wasn't sure what time they came to bed, she'd roused when they did, but hadn't looked at the clock.

Now, enough coffee to get his brain working, having checked in the other parts of The Cottages, taking a headcount, he knew who was missing. It was the 'why' that he wanted the answer to, along with 'where the hell is the truck?', along with an even louder, 'and where the HOLY hell is the car??!'

That car was a sore spot; their old one had more than its share of miles on it when they bought it, they'd added enough more that finally Garrison had bit the bullet and purchased a new one. As he'd explained, firmly, "for business purposes, guys. We need to make the right appearance to attract and keep the right kind of clients. We use the truck for anything else! Understand??!" They'd all assured him that they did, no problem, sure. Why he'd accepted that, he had no idea; he'd known the guys for too long to be that naive, that trusting.

Garrison stared at Goniff, repeating that ever-so-casual explanation he'd just been given around a mouthful of jam and butter-laden toast.

"Casino got an itch??!"

Goniff shrugged, "that's w'at 'is note said. 'Guys, got an itch. See ya.' Short and sweet."

Garrison figured it out in his head, said it all out loud just to be sure he wasn't missing something, waiting for someone, anyone to give him an explanation that actually made some sense. "Lizzie, Chief, Douglas, plus a myriad of assorted females that seem to show up out of nowhere, all rotating through his bed, and Casino gets an ITCH???!"

He looked at Goniff in total disbelief. "You have GOT to be kidding me! I don't see how he has the energy to even remember what an 'itch' is, much less GET one!!!!"

Goniff snickered, the others rolled their eyes, and Lizzie interjected, "well, don't blame me, I was still half-asleep when he rolled out of here, though I agree; I don't see how he had an itch left in him, not after last night. And I don't think Chief left with him, so . . ."

At the same time Goniff was protesting, "now, Craig. EVERYONE gets a stray itch sometimes!" And the looks that got him ranged from bewildered to amused to flat-out annoyed.

"YOU start telling me YOU'VE got a 'stray itch', and . . . " came from Craig and Meghada pretty much in unison. As far as they were concerned, HE shouldn't have any more energy for 'stray itches' than Casino should.

Goniff sighed heavily, like they just weren't getting the point, probably because they weren't. Not til their wandering boys got home did that little point get clarified.

Meanwhile, Craig Garrison was down two men, one new car, one truck and that residual headache had gone from just-barely-there to a full-blown 'just shoot me' one. There went his pretty-good day!

 

The Other Side of the Story:

 

The previous night, after the poker game broke up, after a hearty little get-together with Chief and Lizzie in Lizzie's room, Casino made his way down the hallway to his own room, took a fast shower, stretched out on the bed and grinned.

"Yeah, now that was damned good!"

He thought he'd go to sleep right away, but somehow that didn't happen. He was, well, maybe restless, he wasn't sure quite what it was. He felt itchy, unsatisfied somehow, which didn't make a lot of sense. Deep thinking wasn't really his forte, but he gave it a try, enough to figure out what he was lacking. Sure wasn't sex, he knew that for sure, grinning as he remembered. No, something else, something . . . 

Then the grin got bigger, and he took a quick look at his watch. Yeah, with any luck he could be out and gone, get that itch scratched real good, and back . . . Well, no, not back before the Warden figured out he was gone, but maybe before he started tearing through London looking for him. He got up, dressed, grabbed the spare keys they all kept a set of, and headed out to the car park with all the stealth his slightly tipsy body could manage. Now, just which . . .

He'd been wanting to drive that new car, hadn't gotten a chance yet, just Chief and the Warden being behind the wheel yet, it being theirs for less than two weeks now. Well, now was his chance, and with a wide grin, he undid the brake and heaved it backwards, letting it roll down away that little slant from The Cottages. Once it was as far as it would get, he slid in, and without turning on the lights, started the engine and took off to get that itch firmly scratched.

Chief had heard the moving around, wondered what was going on. Casino had to be as ready for sleep as he was, surely, but obviously not. When he heard the door shut quietly, he hurriedly got into his clothes and outside, just in time to see the car pull away.

Uttering a few choice words under his breath, he dashed back inside, grabbed the key to the truck, and followed along behind, keeping enough distance that Casino didn't see he was being followed. Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, there were no constables out to see two vehicles making their steady, well in Casino's case fairly-steady journey London-bound, both without sign of any headlights. The man in the front was absorbed in his mulling over where would be the best place to get this particular itch scratched; the one following was torn between wishing fervently that Casino had just rolled over and gone to sleep, and an ever increasing curiosity as to what might be so compelling, so tempting as to bring him out onto the London road after a night that most men would have considered more than satisfying enough.

 

They were on their way back now in Garrison's new pride-and-joy, the truck abandoned after one of the others involved in that bar fight rammed into it with their own beat-up vehicle. Chief, behind the wheel, glanced over at Casino, riding shotgun.

"Feelin any better?" he asked, without much expression in his voice or his face. Casino took stock, checking his bruised and bloody knuckles, that tooth he was sure was loose, his sore jaw, his ribs, the various cuts and bruises.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Good, cause the Warden aint gonna be happy."

Casino frowned just a little, "you think he'll be pissed I took off?"

Chief shook his head, "naw, not so much."

Casino asked, "that you came after me?"

"No, he'd expect me to, I guess."

Casino considered, looking down at himself and then over at Chief, at the state they were in, "maybe that we got blood and beer and everything all over the seats of his new car?"

"A little, maybe."

Casino was silent for a few seconds, "then what?"

Chief let just a hint of a smile twitch up the corner of his mouth, "maybe that you didn't make it all the way outta the car before you puked?? And maybe those bullet holes in the rear end he's gonna have to get patched?"

Casino considered again, "yeah, yer probably right," and a brief silence before snickers turned to laughter joining the two brothers-in-arms, the two who were somewhat more than that, though they had no intention of putting that into words, either part of it.

 

They heard the car pull up, went out to the gate. No one said a word, waiting for Garrison to do that. The two men heaved themselves out of the car, shutting the doors with what seemed unusual haste. Garrison's jaw was rock-solid firm as he walked up to them, looked them over carefully, opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated, backed up and took another look at the car. Something . . .

Then he recognized what he was seeing, a bullet hole in the side. He took a slow walk around, noting the other three bullet holes in the rear. The silence was starting to get a little heavy as Garrison looked at the two rascals again, then leaned over to open the driver's seat door, noting the visible wince on the men's faces as he reached for the handle. He flinched back at the stench rolling out from the interior and hastily slammed the door shut again.

"And the truck?" Somehow his voice seemed far too controlled, too calm.

Chief took a quick glance over at Casino, "got rammed," he replied, figuring that pretty well said it all, everything else was just details best not delved into too much right now. Garrison just nodded, turned and went back inside, sat down at the table and reached for the coffee pot sitting in the middle. Meghada considered offering to patch up the two battered prodigal sons, but wasn't sure that was a good idea; after all, there just might be a little more battering to be done and there was no sense having to repeat the job.

They all trooped back into the kitchen, Chief and Casino starting to pull up chairs too, only to get a cold look not from Garrison, but Meghada, along with an icy, "you stink, both of you. Go get cleaned up, THEN you can have coffee! Get!" And they 'got', her not using that tone of voice very often but them knowing to be wary when she did.

By the time they got back, Garrison was on his next cup of coffee, this one fortified by a good slug from the bourbon bottle sitting in the middle of the table. No one was doing any talking, not Garrison or Meghada, Actor, Lynn, Lizzie, Douglas, no one.

Well, except for Goniff, of course, who looked the two over carefully and cheerfully asked, "where'd ya end up?"

Casino cleared his throat, "Martha's", only to get a disapproving frown from the Englishman.

"Not a good idea, Casino. Those guys play rough; likely end up floatin down below the docks. Next time, try the Jack Tar; rough enough to be plenty a fun, but more likely to make it out without your throat sliced."

A few jaws dropped around the table but before anyone could respond, Goniff chimed in again, "and it aint fair! Shoulda woke me; woulda been like old times! Woulda been fun!" 

Garrison was close to exploding but all of that put him back off track again, and one look at Meghada's face just added to his overall bewilderment. She wasn't looking angry, well, not too much, had more of a "oh, shit, here we go again!" look on her face, which considering Goniff's obvious envy and disappointment at not being invited along should have her royally pissed, or so he would have thought, if the guys had headed to one of the more dubious rough-trade London brothels, which is what it sounded like.

Meghada saw the expression on his face and while struggling to keep a resigned but still amused grin off her face, filled him in.

"Martha's' is a really, really rough bar down on the docks, Craig. And Goniff's right, it's a hell of a lot easier to walk in than to walk back out again. The Jack Tar would be a better bet, but still not overly healthy. So, Casino. I'm thinking this 'itch' you mentioned in your note, it was for what Kevin calls 'a bit of fisticuffs'?"

"Fisticuffs, my ruddy arse!" Goniff snorted. "Got the itch for a good oldfashioned bar brawl! You can understand that, can't you, Craig?" turning those oh-so-innocent blue eyes to the green ones staring in total disbelief across the table.

Meghada thought the snicker started, surprisingly, with Actor, but it quickly spread, leaving only Craig Garrison sitting there totally straight-faced, indeed, even stone-faced. His voice was no softer than his face.

"The truck. Find it, get it repaired or get it replaced, out of YOUR stash, no one else's. Today! The car. Get it cleaned up. I'll need it for the Nixon meeting on Friday; sweet as a bouquet of flowers I want it when I open that door. Bullet holes patched, paint touched up. NOT ONE BLOODY SIGN IT EVER LEFT THE CAR PARK!!! AM I UNDERSTOOD??!"

That got a far too casual "sure, Warden" and "not a problem, Warden" from the two miscreants, and the sheer casualness of those replies elicited from Garrison a snarl worthy of the Dragon herself.

It wasn't til everyone had left, including Goniff who was eager to get every detail of "all the fun", that Craig Garrison shut himself in the bedroom and let the helpless laughter come roaring out. Only Meghada heard him, but that was because she was sitting in that big armchair right alongside him, her giggles finding their way out from behind her hands which were covering her mouth.

"An itch! Sweet Mother help us, Craig. Maybe you need to sit down over a bottle with the whole lot of them and find out what ELSE they're inclined to get an itch for!!"


End file.
